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Galaxy Outlaws - A Reason to Get Audible

On Amazon and Audible

I can not emphasize this enough.  GET THIS AUDIOBOOK!  If you are not using audible, then download audible, make an account (your amazon account works!) and get this audio book.  It is nearly 80 hours of 16 novellas all based around a group of misfits in space.  If you ever watched Firefly, it carries similarities.  In fact, the author tells us in an afterward that the cancellation of Firefly is what led him to write the stories.  However, it goes far beyond fan fiction.  Morin has added a grumbly old wizard named Mort as well as several other characters to make his universe unique.  The writing is crisp, funny, and altogether engaging.  I found myself taking the long way home, sitting in my driveway, or making excuses to run errands.

StoryADay: Re-write Poe's Tell-Tale Heart from the perspective of the murdered old man

I am continuing the StoryADay challenge.  Today's prompt prompted (pun intended) a pice of flash fiction.  Here is the prompt, a link to Edgar Allen Poe's initial far-superior story, and my response:

From Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

The Tell-Told Heart

By:  Jerry Harwood

THE PROMPT

Tell the story of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” from the old man’s point of view–after his murder. 

 (author’s note: The Tell-Tale Heart is a wonderful short story.  If you have not read it I would highly recommend taking a look.  At the time of this writing, it was available for free at the followling link: The Tell-Tale Heart .  If the link is not functional, I am sure it is readily available for free through a quick google search.)

I never really knew my life was in peril.  In fact, my son had begun to step away from his normal moodiness.  In the mornings, he had become quite pleasant.  “Good morning,” he would say and then, “How did you sleep?”  I felt warm inside that my son finally took an interest in my health.  

Why yes, it was somewhat peculiar that he began referring to me as “the old man.”  Assuredly, I had always been before his “pa-pa.”  But I thought little of it as he is grown now and relationships do alter over time.  And I am, indeed. Older than I once was.  My lazy eye has gained a gravitas it did not once have.  My son has the same genetic tell, though his has yet to be pronounced with age as mine has this past year.  I wonder if he will handle the alteration as gracefully.  I hope so, but while every father believes his boy to be superior to all others, I would be blind to my surroundings if I did not admit that my son is a tiny percent peculiar.  

Some days I saw him stare angrily at my personage.  When I would catch him, he would immediately turn to a smile but I knew the dissonance was still there.  As best I could decipher, I believe he was upset about my smile.  And such is peculiar.  I have never considered my smile beguiling in the least.

I worry about him now that I have passed on.  Information here passes slowly and is difficult to come by.  Only when someone else enters the afterlife with news relevant to my life’s station do I have a respite of ignorance.  As of yet I have found no one who knows of my son, his circumstances, or his deeds.  He has always been a private lad, refusing my ample monetary offerings for his enjoyment.  Instead, he has always chosen the quite, solitary life of reflection and thought.  Indeed, he always seems lost in rumination about this or that.  

I know sometimes it keeps him awake at night.  I could have sworn on the night I passed in my sleep I heard him stirring.  I was always fearful that he would in the quite of night pass by our dining area when all is still.  I do not think he hears the same thump, thump, thump that I do of his mother’s heart buried under the floorboards, but one can never be certain.  It was necessary to place her there.  It was the only way that I could rid our home of her menacing nose.

I heard that my neighbor from across the way is in the hospital.  He once called the police upon myself to no avail.  They say he is in a bad place with his health.  Perhaps if he arrives, he will lend news of my son’s health and wellbeing.

StoryADay - Retell a Fairy Tale

So in my StoryADay challenge you receive a prompt every day and must write a short story.  You must carve out time to write daily which teaches you the practice of writing consistently.  You must also finish each story, which teaches you to give focus to your craft.  I am doing it with two friends and so far have enjoyed the effort.  Today's prompt and story (Remember, I had to finish it, not proof and edit it so please pardon any errors!):

The Prompt

Think of a fairy tale you like. It can be a well-known one, or one that’s not well-known. (If it’s one you’re familiar with mostly from Disney movies, though, you should probably do a quick re-read of the original fairy tale, because those movies have been known to change a lot of stuff.) Now write a scene from that fairy tale, but reset in some way — you could move it to the present day, or the future. You could also move it to another culture (make sure it’s one you’re very familiar with) or find some other way to turn it upside down. Think about what the story is saying, and how that message changes when the story gets moved. 

The Wolf and the Seven Grand Goats

The Nanny sat her seven young grandkids down at the table.  “Listen,” she said bending her head and showing her world – worn horns.  “I have to go to work.  I’ve left you a list of what you need to do while I’m gone.  Clean this table, read your books, then do chores.”

The seven little grandkids all gave their best “Baaaa-yes!”  They loved their Nanny and wanted to make her proud.  

Nanny goat put on her bright blue bonnet and tied the strings under her chin.  Then she took her blue umbrella which served either as cover in the rain or as a cane for steep stairs.  There were many steep stairs where she worked devouring kudzoo and other plants.  At the door, she turned to her grandkids as they finished their leafy breakfast. “Now there may be people who come to the door.  They will ask you to come out but you must not do so.  Only open the door for me.”

“How will we know it is you?” the youngest butted in.

“Look to your grandbilly’s clock for the answer.  When the small hand is on the six and the big hand is on the twelve I will be home.  Anything before then is not a full day’s work.”  The door closed gently, and the grandkids heard the key turn the lock.  

After breakfast the young goats looked over the table.  There was spittle and chewed bits of food, a wooden spoon one goat had accidently half eaten before realizing it was not part of the meal.  The chairs were not tucked in and the table was not set for the evening meal.

“We should clean the table?” the youngest goat asked his siblings.

“In a minute,” said the oldest.  “Come look at this!”

The goats all ran to the window.  There was a sound, muffled by the home’s sturdy windows and doors.  The oldest cracked a window to hear more clearly.

Full grown, finally a man, just scheming on ways
To put some green inside the palms of my empty hands
Just picture me rollin'
Flossing a Benz on rims that isn't stolen

“Great tune!” shouted the oldest.  “And look at that car!!”  2Pac’s chorus faded out as a bright red Dodge Charger pulled into the driveway.

“Nanny walks to work.  She doesn’t drive a car,” said the youngest goat.

“Maybe Naaaaaanny finally bought one!”  exclaimed the oldest as he rubbed his goatee.  “See!  She has a blue bonnet and a blue umbrella!”

Outside, the wolf hopped nimbly out of the car.  He put a blue bonnet over his pointed ears and snatched a blue umbrella from the back of the Charger.  He picked a bit of fur from his sharp teeth before saying:

            You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            So don’t think about such things as affordability,

            There are no consequences!  Live as you please!

“That is a baaaaad ride!  I want a ride in that car,” said the youngest goat, “but Nanny said to do our work.”  He looked over at the clock his grandbilly made.  It was still 9:00 AM.

“Baaaa Ah no!,” exclaimed the oldest.  He crawled out the window and clomped down the driveway.  “Nanny! Nanny!  Can I drive it?”

“Why even better, my grandgoat.  It can be yours for just a small interest fee. I wouldn’t milk you for too much extra, though there are a few document fees.  Come, come!  Ride with me!”

The car zoomed down the road as 2Pac’s song again howled out of the speakers.

The other six goats herded in the hallway.  “Well,” said the youngest goat, “perhaaaaps it is time we looked to Nanny’s list.  We must clean the dining room and then off to our reading.”

Five of the goats went into the kitchen.  Four began clean while one ate the dust mop.  But the now oldest goat said, “Not me!  It is a baaaad time of day for chores.  I have gaaaaames to play!”  And with that, he went to the living room chewing a discarded table leg.  He sat down with a controller in hoof to rid the world of villainy and vice.  “This is G.O.A.T. logging on” he exclaimed as the console came to life.

“I’m not kidding,” bayed the youngest.  “Nanny doesn’t want us playing games.”

“Ah, she knows we are just kids,” the other goat said as he stormed a virtual hill on the screen.

Just then, the red Dodge Charger again pulled up in the street.  This time the thump of Megadeath played.  The sound burst in through the house’s open window.

Still we search and invent such intelligent weapons
That kill each other like the gears of war
(Gears of war, gears of war)
Ho-rah!
(Gears of war, gears of war)

When you ride with thieves, then you die with thieves
Cross my heart and hope that you die (that you die)
When the smoke has cleared, the devil's in the mirror
And you see his warheads paint the sky, now you die!

The wolf, rubbing his belly, again put on the blue bonnet and took out the blue umbrella.  

You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            So don’t think about work.  It will lead to bleating.

            There are no consequences!  Come with me to game rather than reading!

The wolf then opened up the back seat of the Dodge Charger.  There on the seat, new in the box, was the newest of the new gaming consoles. 

“That isn’t Nanny for sure,” the youngest goat warned.

“Of course it is,” said the goat setting down his game.  “And look, games are more fun than work.  Everyone knows that.  Even Nanny.  That is why she must have bought me this new one to play.”

“We won’t let you go!  Baaaaack off!” cried the other five blocking the window.

The oldest stomped his hoofs and went to his room.  The five goats heard the door slam.  Then, they saw their brother land on the grass outside his window.  He took a moment to eat some fresh grass, cut by Nanny the night before, and then he jumped into the backseat of the Dodge Charger.

The five remaining in the tribe looked to each other.  “That was not Nanny,” said the youngest.  And they returned to their reading.  

An hour later, the oldest sister declared, “This reading is useless.  I don’t even need to know any of this stuff about coyotes, foxes, and wolves.  When will I ever use it?  What I really want is to have some fun!

Outside an engine roared by the neighborhood pond.  There came a screech of tires into the driveway.  All five goats moved to the open window to hear Cndyi Lauper:

I come home in the morning light
My mother says, "When you gonna live your life right?"
Oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones
And girls, they wanna have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun

The wolf, now with a belly sticking out a bit too far, exited the Dodge Charger.  “Who’s ready for a howling good time?”

“Is that Nanny?” one goat asked rubbing his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” said the youngest.

“But look!!” The older sister shouted pointing at the wolf in the blue bonnet.  In one hand he held a blue umbrella.  In the other he held a shopping bag and seven credit cards.

You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            So don’t think about such things as interest, debt, or fees,

            There are no consequences!  Live as you please!

Then the wolf in a gravely voice. not quite high enough to be Nanny, offered, “Fe’ Real, who would like to go with me to a shopping spree!  I hear there is a sale down at the Loafing Shed!”

“Me! Me! I love Baaaaaargains!” The older sister shouted.  She jumped up and down elated.  Even while brushing breakfast from her beard, she never took her eyes off the shiny cards.  “ I’m tired of not charging ahead!  I need new clothes, and shoes.  I need a necklace, and I need other things I don’t even know exist yet!  I must, I must!”

The other four formed a half circle around her and the youngest pointed at grandBilly’s clock, “Nanny said to stay here till she returns.  She said a good goat works till 6:00 and it is but 2:00.”  

“But don’t you see?  Nanny would want me to be happy.  That is why she wants to take me to buy things with money I do not yet have!”  The female goat turned and ran out the back door.  The four watched as she adorned her horns with foundation and put on lipstick before hopping in the front seat of the red Dodge Charger.

“We can not play anymore,” said the youngest goat.  “We must do our chores.”

“I hate chores,” said the middle goat.  “And now that I am the oldest in the house, we do not do any more cleaning.”

The youngest protested, “But Nanny said,  ‘You only get your allowance if your work is done.’”

“Nanny will understand our bleatings.  Besides, Nanny does nothing but work.  They work her like a mule, milking her for all she has.  But she baaaaarely gets paid.  There has to be a shortcut to wealth,” said the middle goat.  As she did, the four heard the band Train along with the familiar sound of a Dodge Charger:

We got the golden ticket
Kick it, hammock and a picket fence
And a pool underground
Take you on a LV spend spree
Open up that Dom P
Baby, cause we're Beverly bound

Every time you're here with me
It's like I won the lottery
As rich as I could wish to be
It's like I won the lottery

The red Dodge pulled into the driveway.  This time the wolf in the blue bonnet got out and placed his growing belly on the hood of the Charger.  He patted the top and smiled his toothy smile.  He had the blue umbrella but was using its end to pick some fur from his teeth.

You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            So don’t think about such things as working for cash,

            There are no consequences!  All you have to do is scratch!

The wolf held up a large stack of lottery tickets.  

“Oooo!!!” said the other sister goat.  “Well kiss my dairy air!  Those are the lottery tickets uncle LeBron plays!  Sometimes he lets me scratch off the circles with my horns.  Nanny must have bought some.  Its great she finally thinks it best to get money without working!  She is so smart!”

“That’s right I am!” howled the wolf.  “Come on down and these tickets are yours.  There is no need to work and even less to save.  The best way to get wealthy is to win by chance.  Luck is always more favorable than hard work!”  The wolf fanned out the lottery tickets to show how many opportunities for easy wealth there could be.  The young goat lept out the front door and into the Dodge Charger.

As the Charger rolled away she screamed, “Goat Load of Cash!  This is my favorite one to scratch!”

The youngest goat said to his two remaining siblings, “That’s an itch you should leave alone.  Listen, there is work for seven young goats and now we are three.  We must work harder than before to be done before Nanny gets home.  Grandbilly’s clock says it is 3:15.”

“You do you, just don’t butt heads with me,” said the oldest remaining goat.  “I’ve been working all morning.  My back hurts, my hoofs are raw, and my gums are tender.  I feel I don’t even have teeth in my upper jaw.  I need something to help me relax, to take my mind off the loss of our brothers and sisters, and to make me feel better.”

“Nanny says the best feeling is a job well done,” the youngest goat meekly said.  

“Baaaa haaa haa.  I say do whatever floats your goat.  Work is haaaaaard.  I’d rather someone else did it while I just relax.”

The red Dodge Charger again passed the neighborhood pond proclaiming Lil Wayne:

I am sittin' on the clouds, I got smoke comin' from my seat
I can play basketball with the moon, I got the whole world at my feet
Playin' touch football, on marijuana street
Or, in a marijuana field, you are so beneath my cleets
Get high, so high, that I feel like lying
Down in a cigar, roll me up and smoke me 'cause
(I feel like dying)

Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying I feel like dying
Only once the drugs are done, that I feel like dying I feel like dying

“Now that is the G.O.A.T. for sure!” said the oldest goat remaining.  

This time the wolf struggled to reach his seat belt and turn his belly away from the steering wheel.  He had to push the seat all the way back and use the open door for leverage.  The Red Dodge Charger rocked as he got out.  The blue bonnet was haphazardly set on his head, no longer fitting his engorged face.  The blue umbrella was now used to support his slow gait.

You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            Let others work while you play

            There are no consequences!  You deserve to be happy today!

The wolf opened up the back seat.  Inside were two other young goats.  One was holding a beer and lifted it to show how much he was enjoying the venture.  The other shook a pill bottle as he puffed out a cloud of smoke.

“Look!” said the oldest remaining goat.  “Nanny finally isn’t treating me like a kid.  Nanny knows my baaaaack hurts.  She knows that I have been working all day, while our sibblings ran off to chase money and things they did not have nor need.  I don’t want money or stuff, I just want… no, I deserve… to have a good time.  And Nanny knows it.  That is why she wants me to go with my friends.”

The youngest goat gritted her teeth and they grinded side to side.  “Nanny said to let no one in until 6:00.  She said to work till then.  It is but 4:30 and we have more to do.  Can’t you see, that is but a wolf that waaaaaants to devour you?”

“Nonsense!” the other goat declared.  She put on her flannel shirt, taking a bite out of its collar as a snack.  “Don’t you see her blue bonnet?  Who else would be here wearing thaaaaaat?”  Then she laughed and smiled clomping her way to the red Dodge Charger.  In the front seat, she held aloft a bottle of Thirsty Goat as someone in the back handed her a chew.  She wave the bottle at her two sibling goats as she waited for the wolf to get his seat belt buckled again.

“Now there are but two of us, and we have so much more to do.  We have to clean the bathrooms, sweep the floors, and do the laundry.”  The youngest goat spoke as he moved toward a pile of laundry laying in the floor.

“But,” interrupted the remaining goat, “why should we work when others have not?  Shouldn’t someone make it fair?  I mean, I’m not going to let anyone get my goat over a few undone chores.  Besides, this isn’t even all my mess.  I shouldn’t have to do it.  Someone else should.”

Again, the red Dodge Charger pulled in.  The youngest goat looked at  grandbilly’s clock.  It was 4:45pm.  The crisp evening air coming from the open windows and doors brought in the melody from Tracy Chapman:

While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion

Don't you know
They're talkin' 'bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up
And take what's theirs

The wolf stuck his head out the window and waved his blue bonnet.  He made no effort to get out of the car.  The exertion may have been beyond his ability.  He burped a loud burp and snorted some hair.  Then, in a predatorial voice.

You see what you want and all wants are needs

            I am your dear Nanny as you clearly see

            Come with me to the welfare line

            There are no consequences!  You should get paid while others pine!

The youngest goat looked to his sister, “No!  Nanny will be here in a few minutes.  She said 6:00!  We should waaaaaait!”

“But don’t you see?  She has come early to get me so we can go get in line.  At 6:00 the elephants will shut it down.  We must go now to meet with the donkeys and such.  Otherwise, we caaaaan’t sign up!  But if we do, we don’t have to work.”

“That’s right!” came a voice outside.  The wolf had driven the car up to the edge of the door.  He snarled, “Come with me.  We can’t let those wealthy cats, fattened pigs, and others keep all the money.  We must go demand our share!”

The goat looked at the youngest sibling and said, “You should come with me and Nanny.”

“That is not Nanny, but a wolf that will devour you whole.  Don’t you remember your reading today?”

The other goat shrugged and moved to the Dodge Charger.  The wolf smiled a toothy smile before backing out over the curb and hitting the mailbox.  The contents spilled out and Nanny’s copy of Backyard Goating and The Keto Trash Diet sprawled across the street.  The Charger roared as the tires spun out.

The youngest goat shut all the doors and closed the windows before he set to work.  He did not stop except to look at the clock.  At 6:00 there was a knock on the door.  He looked through the window and saw his Nanny.  She wore a blue bonnet, carried her blue umbrella, and had a small grocery bag of food for their dinner.

“Where are my other grandkids?” Nanny asked.

“Oh Nanny,” the youngest cried.  “I tried to tell them it was not you but a wolf came.  Six times he came and coaxed them out.  I am afraid he ate them all.”

Nanny petted the youngest goat and stroked his chin hair.  “Do not worry.  Your grandbilly and I often chewed over what to do in a situation like this.”  Nanny set her bonnet and umbrella by the door.  Then she walked to grandbilly’s clock.  She reached in the bottom of the floorlength clock and pulled out a small torch.  “Now let’s wait on that wolf to return.”

“Do you think he will?” asked the youngest goat.

“Oh yes, don’t kid yourself.  He has no self-control and likely never even shed his coat off at his home before coming back.”

The two watched out the window for the red Dodge Charger to see if it would appear before the sun gave up its daily task.  With just an inkling left before the moon ran supreme the two heard the Dodge Charger’s stereo boom:

Windows tinted on my ride when I drive in it
So when I rob a bank, run out and just dive in it
So I'll be disguised in it
And if anybody identifies the guy in it
I'll hide for five minutes

Come back, shoot the eyewitness
Fire at the private eye hired to pry in my business

The car parked and the wolf got out.  His blue bonnet had been swapped for a gold chain and a black toboggan.  “Time to come out now.  You got something I have been hunting for Nanny.”

“And what is that?” Nanny said.  

“Your last grandgoat.  The others came willingly.  But this one I will just snatch.”  The wolf chomped his teeth together.

Nanny put on her blue bonnet.  Then she picked up the torch, lit it, and then picked up the blue umbrella.  She walked outside.  The now oversized wolf lumbered out of the car.  The torch shown and the youngest goat could see his claws. The youngest goat hid his eyes in fear. 

There was a loud sound like someone tore a large piece of paper in two.  The youngest goat looked up and saw the wolf’s body upon the ground.  His belly had been ripped open and the sharp point of the blue umbrella now shown bright red.  Nanny, in her blue bonnet, slowly helped each of her other grandkids out of the wolf’s belly.  The youngest goat went to get the clean towels he had put in the dryer as Nanny herded the others inside.

Nanny returned to their lawn.  The youngest goat followed to watch her sewing the wolf’s stomach back up.  He asked, “Why are you sewing him back up?”

“Oh dear, I set rocks in his belly.  He needs to feel the weight of what he has done.”  With that and the last stitch, she rose and took the youngest goat back inside.

The seven grandkids and Nanny ate some dinner and cleaned up.  Before bed they heard the wolf wake outside.  “I am thirsty!” he cried out.  “I have eaten so much and have had nothing to drink!”  

The goats watched out the window as he slowly walked to the pond.  There he began to drink and drink.  However, as he leaned into the pool for water he felt the rocks in his belly shift.  “These goats are not settling well,” he said before he slipped on the bank.  He tumbled into the water.  The rocks in his belly gave him no chance for escape.  

As he sank to the bottom of the pond, Nanny turned to the grandkids.  She said, “Listen, I have to go to work.  I’ve left you a list of what you need to do while I’m gone.  Clean this table, read your books, then do chores.  Remember, to earn your allowance you must do your work.  No shortcuts!”

“Yes we will!” shouted all seven of the grandkids.  And they meant it.

What if the Aztec Gods Visited Siverdale Prison?

I've been working on a story that has truly peaked my interest.  In my classroom I teach ancient civilization creation stories.  One of my favorites is the Mayan encounter, even though I have to keep the "PG" version front and center.  I have no idea where the story will find a home, but like the idea of the different gods that lead Mayan Civilization into creating the world each getting an hour to run Silverdale Penitentiary.  Here is the first chapter (8:00 pm)  Would love your thoughts or comments in the blog or by email.  jerryharwoodbooks@gmail.com

Tower Dedicated to Ix Chel, Sian Ka'an Biosphere Reserve in Riviera Maya, Mexico. Yvette Cardozo / Getty Images

____

Twelve Hours On The Block

Jerry Harwood

8:00 pm

Eli had been in for less than seven hours when the flaming mattress was tossed over the second floor balcony.  Eli arrived earlier that day with two other inmates.  One, set in an adjacent cell had been all the talk.  Eli had seen him during entry as the men changed to their issued uniforms.  Eli had considered the large hummingbird tattoo with the wings flowing across the man’s back and down his arms to be sissy and effeminate.  Eli had been set in cell 38.  The other two new inmates, including the one with the tattoo, were adjacent in cell 37.  The guards paraded by Eli’s cell often that initial afternoon.  But his cellmate assured him their slow gate pass cell 38 was really to see the man everyone knew as Hummingbird one cell over.  Not seeing the attraction, Eli settled in his cot for his first night of sleep in Silverdale Penitentiary.

Hummingbird had managed to wedge his door open during the final night check.  Eli recalled the sound of the first alarm, notifying guards that not all cell doors were closing.  There was a general uproar in the fifty cell facility, twenty upstairs and thirty downstairs.  Downstairs, affectionately called the courtyard, opened the entry doors as guards began yelling for inmates to stay in their cells.  The guards on the second floor began rattling their batons along the cell walls as they walked the line to see who had jammed a door.  It was then that Eli saw the mattress engulfed in flames fly out of Hummingbird’s cell.

An announcement was made over the intercom instructing all inmates to remain in their cells.  A beep followed by cell doors reopening and attempting to close.  Eli heard the footsteps outside as a guard approached. The guard’s baton raked the side of cell number 38.  In cell 37, the Hummingbird exited.

“Get back in your cell,” came the guard’s voice. 

Eli jumped down from his top bunk.  He remained away from the cell door to avoid giving any intention of leaving.  He wanted no part of this altercation, but he also didn’t want to miss out on his opportunity for a front row seat to an altercation.

“I said get back in your cell.” The guard said to Hummingbird.

The guard pulled out a Taser gun.  Eli could not see Hummingbird directly with the guard stepping between Eli and the other inmate.  The guard stepped toward Hummingbird.  There was a loud crack and the hum of an electric current.  Then the guard’s body went limp.

Hummingbird held the limp body aloft and moved toward the balcony guardrail.  He was shirtless and  the hummingbird tattoo stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade.  It was all black ink with a little grey shading.  On his leftt arm was an arm length tattoo of a flaming sword.  Eli could not remember seeing that tattoo previously.  The sword looked as if it had serrated teeth and had some poorly done yellow tinting along the blade.  The Hummingbird had all the appearances of Chattanooga’s citizen of the year.

The Hummingbird, dropped the guard on the floor and stepped out of sight of Eli into cell 37.  Eli next saw another prison mattress cast down to the courtyard in flames.  Eli backed up into his own cell a bit, seeing how easily Hummingbird cast the heavy mattress over his head.   Burnt fibers descended to the man’s bare skin.  He did not flinch.

“Return to your cells.” Came a voice over the intercom.  Eli heard the note of fear and desperation in the intercom voice.  A body, Eli assumed it was Hummingbird’s cellmate, was lifted as easily as the mattress by Hummingbird.  Eli could not tell if the man was alive, but supposed it would not matter.  Hummingbird tossed him over the guardrail presumably on top of the two burning mattresses.

There was a raucous yell by other inmates that echoed through the prison.  Eli heard footsteps on the metal catwalk outside the cells.  Many prisoners were exiting their cells to see what was happening.  Eli remained behind his bars even as he peered out the open cell doors.  Hummingbird’s debut at Silverdale Penitentiary was not yet finished.

Hummingbird pulled the fallen, disheveled guard up to his feet.  The guard was regaining consciousness and protested with weak kicks and a scream.  Hummingbird reached behind the guard and released the buckle on the protective vest.  The vest dropped.  Then Hummingbird pushed the guard into the railing of the balcony.  The arm with the flaming sword grabbed the guard’s shirt and ripped it down the middle.  The guard’s overweight belly bounced as it was exposed.   

“Put him down now and return to your cell,” came a voice just outside of Eli’s visual range.  “I said, put Joey down and return to your cell.”

Eli heard other voices.  Some were the taunts of prisoners, others additional staff that had entered to regain order.  The intercom continued to advise all prisoners to return to their cells and remain on their bunks.

Eli knew the next moment happened in seconds.  However, in Eli’s mind it replayed in slow motion and in high definition.  Effortlessly, Hummingbird lifted the overweight guard off his feet, using the balcony rail to shoulder some of the burden.  The guard’s feet jerked to find purchase on the metal walkway as Hummingbird held him aloft with his right hand.  Eli could have sworn the guard looked at Eli, pleading with his eyes.  Hummingbird’s back was to cell 38 and Eli saw the wings of the hummingbird tattoo were lifted as if in flight as Hummingbird’s muscles tensed.  Hummingbird’s left arm extended, holding the guard up by his shirt collar.  The left arm with the flaming sword tattoo raised a cupped hand.

Hummingbird’s hand caught fire.  

Eli stepped onto the walkway, temporarily forgetting his intention to stay in his cell.  This was some Indiana Jones and Temple of Doom type stuff.  Hummingbird’s left arm descended and his now flaming hand penetrated the guard’s chest.  The flaming hand seemed to extinguish itself and a steam arose from where Hummingbird’s arm now intersected with the guard’s chest.   Hummingbird continued to push his arm into the guard’s chest cavity.  Small flames flickered along the left arm where the sword tattoo began to take on a red hue.  Hummingbird’s wrist extended into the guard so that the sword’s point was no longer visible.

The tattoo on Hummingbird’s back filled with a bright crimson red as if the blood from the guard was moving to Hummingbird’s back and completing the design.  The guard continued to look at Eli, his eyes begging for mercy.  Eli felt a baton to his own back.  Someone behind him yelled at him to return to his cell.  Eli stepped back into the cell.

Hummingbird’s hand pulled away from the guard’s chest.  He dropped the guard’s body to the floor and raised a beating heart high in the air.  The guard who had hit Eli dropped his baton, turned, and ran.  

A few prisoners entered into Eli’s scope of vision after leaving their own cells.  They picked up the guard’s corpse, and threw it over the railing.  Eli would learn later that inmates on the bottom floor were rapidly adding their mattresses to the fire.  The cellmate and now the heartless guard were roasting on a makeshift pyre.

Hummingbird laughed and raised the heart as high as he could.  It was still beating as Eli heard the most terrifying words he could have ever imagined. 

 “All personnel please evacuate the floor.  All personnel evacuate the floor.”  

Michael Sullivan's Legends of the First Empire

So, Michael Sullivan had me captivated from the opening chapters where two very odd companions enter into a city and meet a band of misfit children.  From there, I have loved immersing myself in his world.  I am currently finishing Age of Death and I am already sad that the journey will soon be over.

As a writer, I have also truly appreciated the forwards and afterwards in the book.  Michael Sullivan takes time to discuss his writing style with the reader and how he has developed the story for our consumption.

I enjoyed Game of Thrones, though I set it down somewhere around book six and picked up the HBO show.  I loved The Last Kingdom series by Bernard Comwell, though I haven't watched the tv series yet.  I hope this series someday gets its call into film as well.  Till then, do yourself a favor whether you read often or read rarely.  It is fantastic.

Story A Day Challenge

So one of the leads in my writing group has challenged us the past two years to participate in Story - A - Day.  It is an activity where you get a writing prompt every day and must develop a story.  Many are flash fiction, and my friend said he has occasionally gotten inspired to crank out a 4,000 word story in one day as well.  I intend to share a few on here and maybe even get enough collected to publish a short story book.  But publishing is not my main goal.  

My main goal is to learn to write daily.  

I started writing over a year ago because I had always wanted to publish a book.  Done.  But I found out that writing for me was very therapeutic.  I love seeing the stories come to life in my mind.  I enjoy having characters and plot lines run through my head as I mow the yard or drive on errands.  In short, I have found a new hobby.  Maybe someday it will make money, but that is not my motivation.  

Story-A-Day is a month long exercise in how to be a consistent writer.  If my hobby was golf, I would need to play more often than an occasional weekend.  If my hobby was fishing, I would supplement my time at the lake by watching videos, reading magazines, and talking to locals and professionals.  I might even go to a show.  If my hobby was gardening, I would certainly be in my garden during planting and harvesting time.  But I would attend to my passion year round.  I might learn how to can, learn new recipes, or learn about gardening tips.

Writing has become my favorite hobby.  Here is to Story - A - Day and the hope that in June I have:

-1. Written a full story every day

-2. Learned my hobby better

-3. Developed a writing habit that is daily and disciplined.

Want to join?  It is free to do!  If you do, email me and let me know.  Let us encourage each other in the process.